The Cure
by Correcthorsebatterystaple
Summary: "Phantom still remembered when it had all began. The Rot, they called it." Zombie apocalypse Maple AU. PhanFreud/FanFuri
1. Chapter 1

He had been an outcast, once.

When the world stood tall, humanity at its brightest before the fall. He had been a thief and a liar and an all about scoundrel. Phantom, he called himself, because phantom he was. A man who would never be noticed. History books would forget about him.

It was no matter, now. Society no longer cared for what he had been. The world had been born anew in its own ashes.

Kerning City was no different than the last few cities Phantom had been to. Buildings that once stood tall, now were crumbling. Broken glass littered the streets, no longer protecting the dark eyes to the houses. Cars were parked haphazardly in various different places, their owners long forgotten. The air was hot, muggy and it was difficult to see through the haze surrounding him.

In brick alleyways Phantom could see old styrofoam coffee cups and beer bottles, bottles marked _Fusion Bar. _Further down he could see the old stubs of could almost bring a cynical laugh from Phantom's lips, because this was a remembrance of humanity. Caffeine addicts, drunkards and smokers. What a lovely image that would paint of what they once were.

The moon hung low overhead, tinted blood orange with old city fumes. It lit the way, partially, but Phantom, who was walking the streets, had no need of it, due to his excellent night vision.

_Phantom,_ echoed in his mind wearily,as he slumped against a wall, cautiously surveying his surroundings, _my name is Phantom._

There was no one else to remind him anymore. It was up to himself to stay sane.

Phantom still remembered when it had all began. The shortouts. The panicking people on TV, saying that _everyone_ needed to evacuate, but that couldn't be true, could it? Because everything on the television stayed on the television, it never happened to Phantom.

Or so he had thought.

Phantom still remembered when it had all began. _The Rot,_ they called it. Because disgustingly enough, that was what it looked like. The blond would never be able to get the images out of his head, those of bloodshot eyes and Rotting flesh, of torn skin and the revealing of muscle beneath. Their blood didn't drip, it _oozed_, black and dead, just like them. And the smell- it often preceded them, a smell so bad the first time he had ever encountered it, it had left Phantom vomiting. It was pungent and horrid, the smell of death and dying.

Phantom had watched so many people become those _things._ One bite was all it took- the Rot was communicable through saliva. Yet...

Strangely enough, Phantom had found that he was immune. He had been bitten before, and nothing had happened.

Phantom wrapped his arms around himself, tipping his head back against the worn building he leaned against. He was so, so tired. All that was left anymore was to _survive._ He could no longer _live_. Not without Aria.

Aria. The gods damned _Rotters _had taken her from him. He had watched, unable to tear his eyes away as she fell into a coma for several days, her body beginning to decompose, before she awoke as a murderer. The caterpillar metamorphosing into an _oh so beautiful butterfly_. Fucking hell.

Phantom had ran away like a coward instead of putting her out of her misery.

With a sigh, Phantom stared up at the night sky, too exhausted to even shed any tears. It was difficult to sleep when any moment, you could be awakened by a Rotter's ugly mug.

But nonetheless, Phantom found himself dozing off, his eyes slipping shut.

_Just for a moment... Just... A moment... Then I'll get up._

_**Bang.**_

Sharp, searing pain that had Phantom gasping and arching his back, clutching at his shoulder and biting his lip, his face white as a sheet.

Gods, what...? Did the damned things use _guns_ now? Phantom doubled over, feeling wetness from his arm staining his hands red. The world spun.

"Fuck, you _idiot._ That's a human!" A gruff voice barked off in the distance, pity tingeing it. "It's too late now. _They're_ coming."

Phantom's eyes widened and he snapped his head back upwards. Sure enough, the Rotters were gathering around him, drawn by the scent of his blood.

He was surrounded. And there was no way he could push himself up to stand with the bullet wound in his arm.

Besides, there was no use. They would catch him if he tried to run.

Phantom's eyes narrowed. Was this it...?

They drew closer and closer, their rotting hands reaching for him, their faces ugly and leering. Phantom shuddered at the stench invading his nostrils and he thought _this is going to hurt, isn't it?_

His breath coming quick, the blond clenched his eyes shut.

...

Nothing happened.

A loud growling noise. Running footsteps on the brick ground. Phantom tentatively opened his eyes. All of the Rotters were gone, leaving behind drip drops of dead blood and traces of discolored flesh on the ground below.

Standing in front of him was... A human. No. Not a human. There was an inhuman aura about him. Yet this person was far too intact to be a Rotter. His face was deathly pale, framed by auburn strands of hair. Blue eyes gently narrowed at Phantom as he glanced over his shoulder at the man.

And slowly, the corpse-like man approached Phantom. Each step could be a death sentence. He knelt in front of the blond and leaned in, causing Phantom to note in some corner of his mind that his scent was that of cinnamon, and fit his cheek against the crook of his neck to _suck_ on a bloody shoulder.

Phantom's head hit the wall behind him as he bit his lip, stifling a grunt of pain. "Wh-what...?" He choked out softly.

The other man lapped at the bullet wound, his cold tongue laving the bloody mess.

Lost in a confusing haze of pain and exhaustion, Phantom promptly passed out.

* * *

It dimly registered in Phantom's mind that he was not where he had fallen unconscious. A suspiciously unstable looking roof loomed overhead. Wherever he was, it was marked by dim, flickering blue lights and the overwhelming, putrid smell of beer, piss and vomit.

_Fusion Bar_, read the electric blue lights. Or rather, Fus n B, as many letters were completely dead.

Phantom could see that he was in a back room to this apparent bar, since he was in a small room with a door off to the side. He was resting on a bed with torn sheets, marked with, to his disgust, beer, piss, vomit and what he hoped wasn't come.

_That man._ Phantom remembered and jerked upwards, only to fall back down with a soft cry of pain, his fingers curling against his shoulder helplessly as his bullet wound reopened. To his surprise, there were bandages against his fingers- he glanced down, and surely enough his shoulder was bandaged in white, with red spreading across.

The blond tensed as the door creaked open on its rusty hinges, bracing himself and glancing hurriedly about the room's torn and stained wallpapers to look for an escape route. There was none.

"You're awake?" A deep voice cut through the semi darkness. Phantom saw the man from earlier step through the doorway. They observed each other warily.

"No shit, Sherlock," Phantom answered bitingly. To his surprise, the response he was met with was that of laughter, rather than disamusement and a pointy thing to the neck.

"How's your arm?"

"Violated," The blond made a face, remembering the way his tongue had licked away at his shoulder.

"I was hungry," At least the man... Thing... Had the decency to look sheepish.

"You're not human. You're not one of _them, _either. What are you?"

The redhead looked away. "I don't know."

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

It was strange to talk to someone again. Phantom had wandered different cities for so long, since Aria's death, yet he had never encountered anyone else, until recently. The blond's voice felt rusty and sore from disuse.

"It's the truth," He ran his fingers through his mussed strands of hair frustratedly, before walking closer to Phantom to sit on the edge of the worn bed. "I'm... An experiment, I suppose."

"An experiment?" Phantom echoed.

"You didn't think that the government made no attempt to fight back the Rot, did you? They killed one of the Rotters and experimented with the DNA of it. I was the result."

"But you're not mindless like they are."

"Yes, well," He murmured bitterly, "I suppose I still inherited their fine dining habits."

Phantom's eyes fell shut for a moment. This was... A lot to take in, suddenly.

"Then why aren't there more like you? Why hasn't this epidemic been stopped?"

"The scientists working on that project were overcome. I couldn't save them. I managed to escape." The redhead looked down at his hands. "My name is Freud."

"Freud," Phantom echoed, arching a brow. "Like... Sigmund Freud?"

"Yes, well," Freud's depressed demeanor was overcome by a wry one. "I suppose it is spelled the same way."

Phantom didn't ask whether he had named himself, or the scientists had named him. He could be tactful when he needed to be. However, he made a mental note that, were he to continue on being in the company of this man born of an experiment, he would make snarky comments about mommy issues.

"I'm Phantom," The blonde offered after a moment's silence.

"Phantom," Freud playfully echoed in return. "That isn't even a proper name, Mister Adjective."

There was a peaceful quiet for a while after that, both lost in their own thoughts. Phantom was almost afraid to break it.

"So, what now?" Painstakingly, Phantom dragged himself into an upright position, leaning his head back against the grungy wall and closing his eyes.

"Will you be fine on your own?"

The words caused a hitch in Phantom's breathing. He froze, then shot upwards, ignoring the overwhelming pain. "Don't leave me alone...!"

Freud blinked at him, confused, before understanding registered in his eyes.

"Sorry._ Sorry._ I just..." Phantom grit his teeth, his uninjured arm coming up so his hand could fist in his hair in frustration and embarrassment of his outburst.

The blonde just couldn't stand it anymore. The constant silence. Only Aria's voice in his mind to keep him company. The thoughts, Gods, the _thoughts_ that he should just let them take him because maybe death was better than this.

Freud's deep blue eyes softened and he tentatively reached out to place a hand on the thin, off white blanket above Phantom's knee.

"I'll stay. I could use a companion."

Little did Phantom know that this would mark the beginning of a long and wonderful adventure.


	2. Chapter 2

_God damn, _Phantom's shoulder hurt. It was one of those nights, wasn't it?

The blonde's whitened fingers clenched tightly into the sheets and his teeth grit together roughly. He was no stranger to pain, but this was agonizing nonetheless.

It was something around five in the morning following the day he had met Freud. Said man sat in a chair, keeping watch with a flick knife in his hand. His blue orbs eyed the door cautiously as he flicked open and flicked closed the knife periodically.

Phantom was finding it difficult to sleep through all the pain... And whenever his eyes slipped shut, horrifying images danced behind them, painting his inner eyelids with the red blood of the fallen as he could vividly see darkened eyes staring back at him, no longer human. Not even animalistic. Just... Dead.

"Freud," He murmured, finally fed up.

"Yes?" Out of the corners of his eyes, the experiment glanced at the injured man.

"I need alcohol. ...Please," Phantom added; it never hurt to be polite with someone who could easily stab you to death. The blond couldn't find it in him to trust the other man yet. Not in a world like this.

It was one of those nights. Where reality and nightmares blurred together at the edges, a tapestry of macabre. Maybe Phantom could drown his pain and wash away Aria's bloody face with something to drink.

"I can't help you there-"

"If you're going to scold me for drinking, I'm a grown man, thank you," Phantom bit out.

"I was going to _say_," Freud looked unamused at having been interrupted, "I don't have any on hand. If you need something to take the edge off, that's your own business."

"Oh," Phantom had the decency to look sheepish. To his defense, he was tired. "Have you looked in the cabinets out front?"

"No," Freud admitted. The redhead rose from his seat and, a smile twitching at his lips from the irony, he uttered, "Stay here."

"Like I have much choice," Phantom muttered, as the door slipped shut. Unless he wanted to be in a whole new world of pain.

The room was dark except for a sliver of light coming from the crack in the door. Phantom pressed the thin sheets closer around his aching body. The smell from the room no longer bothered him; he had grown used to it already. He found himself glancing around once more, and his eyes fell upon a worn hook in the wall upon which a tattered brown coat draped from. The blonde blinked his odd, amethyst eyes and found his chest aching as he wondered if the owner of the jacket was already dead, or worse.

Phantom shook his head. It didn't matter. He wasn't usually this sentimental. He only had himself to worry about- and now, maybe Freud.

It wasn't that the criminally inclined man wanted to become attached to this strange experiment. Phantom never wanted to rely on anyone. But if he had no one to talk to but himself- as much as he loved the sound of his own voice, he swore he would go insane.

Phantom laughed dryly, bitterly and wondered if maybe he was already insane.

Probably

When Freud returned, it was with two bottles of alcohol. He held them out to Phantom- a cheap brand of beer and a fine red wine. The blonde regarded the beer disdainfully and reached for the wine, uncorking it and taking a reckless gulp that burned throughout his mouth. It warmed his chest as it trickled down his throat.

Freud watched impassively as a small amount dripped down from the corner of Phantom's mouth.

It took some time before the tell-tale tingling throughout the blond's body began, along with the pulsing in his head. The pain was already beginning to feel less acute. He gazed at Freud.

"You should talk to me," Phantom suggested plaintively. Bottle hooked in between his fingers, he twirled it around, listening to the dim swishing of the liquid inside.

"About what?"

"Anything," Phantom snorted. "Everything. Tell me what your favorite color is for all I care."

Freud blinked, somewhat taken aback by his new companion's sudden straightforwardness, brought on by being tipsy. "Red."

"Morbid," Phantom commented dryly. "That's the color of blood."

"If that's how you think about it," Freud shrugged, fingering the gold trim of the bright red hoodie he was wearing. "And you?"

Phantom's hand clenched around the bottle, and it stilled. His lips curled up in an embittered husk of a smile. "Blue."

(_The color of Aria's eyes.)_

Freud didn't ask.

"Let's play a game," Phantom suggested idly.

"Mm?"

"I ask a question, you answer, then you ask me a question and I answer."

"And if one of us asks something the other doesn't want to answer?"

Phantom tapped his lip thoughtfully. "...We each get three 'passes'."

"It's your turn to ask me, I suppose."

Ah... What to ask? There was so much that lay unknown about Freud. But the first thing that came to mind...

"Are you gay?"

...

Silence lingered in the air and Phantom almost felt sheepish. Almost. It wasn't his fault he had no tact at the moment, he was starting to get drunk.

And then Freud doubled over laughing, eyes shut as he threw his head back with lilting chuckles slipping from his lips. This continued on for several minutes until Freud's laughter finally slowed to a stop, his face flushed from it. Still, an amused smile lingered on his face.

"How should I know? I've barely been in this world."

"Wait..." Phantom made a face. "How old are you?"

Freud held up a finger. "You already used up your question for this turn. My turn." He ignored Phantom's ensuing expression that was almost a pout.

"Are those contact lenses?"

Phantom blinked, taken aback by the question. His head tilted to the side in confusion until he remembered. ...It had been a while since anyone had asked him that.

"Oh. No, my eyes are naturally purple."

"I see."

Phantom wasted no time in firing off his next question. "So? How old are you?"

"Four," Freud deadpanned.

_Wait wait wait **what?**_ "You're shitting me. I'll have you know that that wasn't a very funny joke."

"I have no recollection of who I was before they began experimenting with my dead body. I suppose I was somewhere in the realm of my twenties when I was alive and human, but I've only been who I am today for four years."

_Experimenting with his dead body._ Well, that was pleasant.

Freud looked thoughtful, as he most likely dug around for a question.

"Who was your first love?"

Phantom tensed._ "Pass,_" He grit out.

"Sorry," Freud uttered gently. Phantom made no attempt to reply, feeling nauseous as he was.

"Were there any others, like you?" Phantom finally questioned after a period of silence.

"No," Freud replied somewhat sadly. "I'm the only one."

Another silence, before an amused glint came into Freud's eyes. "So? What about you?"

"Mmh?"

"Are you gay?"

"Bi, actually."

"Best of both worlds," Freud hummed.

"What's your favorite animal?" Phantom asked. He was starting to run out of questions; his head was feeling fuzzy.

"Dragon," Freud answered cheerfully.

"Dragons don't exist."

"Well, zombies weren't supposed to exist."

"Touche."

Phantom sighed. His eyes were beginning to feel heavier.

"You should sleep," Freud suggested. "I'll keep watching."

Phantom had no choice but to agree as his head fell back against the pillow. His thoughts vaguely wandered over the things he had learned about Freud as he fell to sleep, this time painlessly. This time, without phantasmagoric visions of Aria appearing in his mind's eye.

This time, with Freud watching over him. Maybe this time, 'one of those nights' wasn't so bad after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Phantom wished he could have woken up to pale golden sunlight streaming through a window, leaving speckles of warmth on pristine bed sheets. Phantom wished he could have woken up to strands of platinum blond left on the pillow beside his, the smell of burnt eggs and bacon tickling his nose. And for a moment, he nearly thought he did, trapped in the strange realm between waking and dreaming. He could almost smell the faint scent of Aria, sweet and light and minty, faint but addicting, and tangled in the sheets with him.

But the dream faded away, sand slipping through his fingers slowly but surely until he was left blinking his tired eyes at a dark, windowless room that smelled worse than Aria's bad cooking. The only strands of hair on the pillow were his own, curly blond ones, falling out from stress.

_Damn_, Phantom huffed softly; how was he supposed to keep on looking good if he was well on his way to bald spots, at this rate?

Oh well. He had thick hair; he'd be fine.

But Phantom missed those halcyon days, when it was just he and she.

"You're awake," Freud duly noted, and the blond's eyes flickered to his face. The experiment was still seated in the chair by the door, knife in hand, and Phantom found himself simply observing the other man. He had a straight nose coupled with an angular jaw and small ears that were amusingly cute. His eyebrows weren't unattractively thick, and Phantom could spy a small scar slashed through one of them, resting thin and pale above his eyelid. He had a lithe build, but not unathletic.

All in all, Phantom couldn't help but notice that he was hot.

"How's your shoulder?"

"Hurts," Phantom grinned wryly. It really did; when he had first been shot, it had felt like a baseball bat slamming into his shoulder, leaving in its path a stabbing white hot pain. The man had to commend Freud's medical abilities, though; he was fairly certain that the redhead had found a way to remove the bullet, and now his arm was in a sling.

"I have good news," Freud announced. Phantom finally noticed that there was something resting by the other man's chair. The other reached for it and held it up. It was... A cane? "I found this. You'll need it to travel."

Phantom made a face at the proffered cane. "What am I, an old man?"

"No, you're disabled," Freud deadpanned.

"Like that's much better," Phantom mumbled. "Why do I need it? It's a shoulder wound, not a leg wound."

"To use as a weight for rehab."

Phantom looked at Freud strangely. That sounded like the kind of thing a doctor would say. "How do you have so much medical knowledge, anyways?"

"I.." The redhead seemed startled by the question. His face clouded over. "I don't know."

Phantom just shrugged it off. Of course Freud was going to be strange, he'd been through a lot.

"How long do you think we have to wait before we can get on the move? This place reeks."

"Between one and two weeks."

Phantom's brows knit together. "We don't have that long. The Rotters will find us."

"Regardless, you need time to mend. There's nothing we can do about that."

The blond blinked and tilted his head to the side. "Then let's just steal a car."

_Did it still count as stealing, if the owner was dead? _Phantom wondered vaguely.

"I've been around the apartments, here. They're completely trashed. How would we find car keys?"

"Oh, believe me," Phantom grinned, "I have my ways."

* * *

_Said ways_ turned out to be a rather expansive knowledge and memory of where people tended to keep their keys. On that alone, the two embarked, Phantom heavily leaning on Freud due to his instability in his walking. His vision was blurred with pain, and he was sweating heavily, drops trickling down his nose to his chagrin.

Freud was tensed, and Phantom had to wonder whether the experiment was just unused to physical contact, or it was something else. The redhead kept covering his mouth.

Eventually, they made it to the door of a broken down apartment building. Phantom's fingers skimmed the walls as they passed each door._411, 412, 413..._ And the blond stopped at the last one; the door was splintered and an utter wreck, clearly having been broken down by forced entry. Phantom quickly checked under the filthy doormat- no key. He shrugged and ducked inside with the help of Freud.

The place was a disaster. Broken glass littered the carpet. Rats skittered about the floor, as the two stepped in hesitantly, startled by the footsteps. Mold was growing on the couch covers within the barely recognizable living room. A rancid smell hit the men quickly and harshly, causing them to wrinkle their noses.

This was the smell of death.

With a grimace, Phantom set off to do his work; he checked the countertops in the small kitchen, on the table, and even between the couch cushions. Nothing.

Finally, he sighed and ventured deeper within the apartment, his stomach turning as the smell became more and more pungent. With apprehension, he twisted the door handle to the master bedroom.

"Oh, Gods," Phantom whispered.

A dead, rotting body was set in the center of the room, hand outstretched as if trying to crawl away. Dried blood crusted the floor in messy hand prints. A swarm of flies buzzed around.

Phantom's vision swam but he determinedly took a step forward when he saw what he had come here for.

Clutched in the hand of the deceased, were car keys.

The blond knelt down and slowly reached for the hand, peeling the fingers away before snatching the keys away and shuddering violently. He hurriedly walked back and slammed the door behind him with trembling hands.

Freud finally walked over. "...Phantom?" He reached for the door knob himself.

"Don't," Phantom grit out, hurrying past the redhead. He simply held up the keys and then walked out as fast as he could, leaving behind the awful stench. But he couldn't leave behind the disturbing images.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Freud asked worriedly, hand reaching for Phantom's uninjured shoulder once they were outside.

"I'm fine-"

Phantom abruptly turned to the side and threw up on the ground.


	4. Chapter 4

Freud stared at Phantom, concern evident in his eyes, as the blond straightened up and wiped his mouth, shuddering out of revulsion. His hand tightened on his cane.

"Talk to me, Phantom," Freud said gently, tugging at the other's sleeve like a little child demanding attention.

"Don't ask," Phantom muttered grimly. He held up the car keys, resisting the urge to drop the damned things, to show Freud, and then marched with the air of a dying man towards the cars parked out front. He pressed the 'unlock' button and listened for which car beeped.

His eyes widened. It was a car in fairly good condition; it was a white Impala with gold trimming. The traumatic experience from earlier placed in the back of his mind, he hurried towards it, a wide grin on his face.

"I'm calling her," Phantom announced proudly with one hand resting on the trunk of the car, "the Lumiere."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Freud arched an eyebrow.

"Nope."

Admiringly, Phantom opened the door and settled into the passenger seat, feeling the soft, deep red fabric of them. He flashed a smug look towards Freud. "You coming?"

Freud sat down in the driver's seat, and the blond tossed him the keys, which he deftly caught.

"She's my baby," Phantom declared cheerfully, "but you can drive her. For now."

The redhead shot the other man a fondly exasperated glance and then they were off, the car backing from the driveway.

"Where to?"

Phantom tapped his lip ponderingly for a minute or so. After a short while, he spoke. "...The town of Henesys."

"Any reason why?"

"Let's just say I have a feeling about Henesys."

* * *

Phantom glanced around and immediately thought _Ew._ _Mushrooms._ At least there was plenty of other edible vegetation; they wouldn't have too hard of a time finding food here, unlike the convenience stores in Kerning that had already been pillaged by passing survivors.

Somehow, the town was even more eery than Kerning City. In a slum like that, it seemed almost natural to barely see any passersby. But in a bright, cheerful little place like this, there should have been children playing in the sunlight and teenage friends licking at dripping ice cream while sitting on park benches. There should have been little old ladies peering out their doors and telling their kids to come inside and wash up for supper. That was the kind of place Henesys was.

Instead, the quaint houses with their orange-tiled roofs were deserted, their lights dim and with no more smoke puffing up from the chimneys.

No people passed as the two men drove through the paved streets. Phantom watched out of the corner of his eye as the gate to the boringly named Henesys Park swung open with the wind, letting out a soft, creepy _crreeak_. The words 'ghost town' popped into mind.

"Where to next?"

Before the blond could answer the experiment's question, his stomach grumbled loudly in a comical fashion. He laughed awkwardly.

"Right," Freud remarked dryly. He glanced around. "Looks like we're having mushroom stew for dinner."

Phantom grimaced. "I_ hate_ mushrooms."

"Deal with it."

"Jerk."

"Bitch," Freud shot back easily.

* * *

Lunch was disgusting. For a little bit, Phantom had been confused as to why Freud hadn't eaten, and then he remembered and internally chided himself for nearly asking. The redhead smiled knowingly.

Be that as it may, the two continued on, into the surrounding area of Henesys outside the actual town. They came upon a rural farm and shared a glance.

"There could be survivors," Phantom murmured.

"There could be Rotters," Freud shot back apprehensively.

"I don't care," Phantom did his best to dramatically get out of the car and march towards the farm. He really did. Yet his getaway was ruined by the fact that he stumbled, just barely catching himself. He stared at his own feet, traitors as they were, in a disgruntled manner.

Freud sighed and stepped out of the Lumiere. Together, the two trekked towards the house, walking up the path to it.

And that was when they heard it.

"_Aaahh!"_ The shrill scream pierced the silence suddenly and violently. Phantom's breath froze in his throat as memories of Aria haunted him, but he hurried on anyways.

Freud fumbled with the doorknob, turning it hastily, but it wouldn't budge. With a frustrated huff, he stepped back and kicked the door down, running inside. Phantom, despite the burning ache in his shoulder as it was jostled, ran after him.

A second scream, more desperate than the first. It was coming from the door to what seemed to be an upstairs bedroom. The door, this time, wasn't locked, and the man and experiment busted in.

A Rotter was hunched over a terrified, trembling child, sniffing disturbingly. Phantom reacted before he could even think.

He grabbed the nearest chair one-handedly and bashed it over the thing's head. It flinched and in the blink of an eye, it was on him, tearing at his skin with grungy nails and trying to get its sickly mouth on him. He cried out in agony as his shoulder slammed back into the floorboards

Freud was quick. He hooked an arm around its neck and _pulled _backwards.

A sickening snap and it fell backwards, twitching in its death throes. Phantom, panting for breath and backed up to the wall, turned his attention towards the kid.

"Hey. Where are your parents?"

"It ate them..." Through the little boy's hysterical sobbing, neither Phantom nor Freud could hardly understand him.

"Come on," Freud said quickly, "We need to get out of here. Are there more?" The redhead asked as he gathered the boy into his arms protectively and offered Phantom a hand up.

"D-don't know," The kid hiccuped, going limp in the man's grip.

Phantom stood unsteadily, eyes unfocused as he tried not to concentrate on how much his gunshot wound hurt right then.

They raced out the door, not waiting to listen for more Rotters. The things often gathered together when there was blood spilt. And if there were more?

They would follow them.

Freud settled into the car, hurriedly fishing out the key and turning it. He passed Evan to Phantom, letting the blond find himself with a head of fluffy brown hair under his chin. The child, who appeared to be somewhere from six to seven years old, was shaking violently, his breath coming in harsh, shocked pants, nearing hyperventilation.

"Breathe, kid."

The car started, backing out of the driveway. Freud drove aimlessly; as long as they were on the move, it was unlikely the Rotters could get them.

"What's your name?"

"E-Evan."

"Well, Evan..." Phantom sighed, wishing he could honestly believe what he was saying. "It's going to be okay."


	5. Chapter 5

The sun was setting behind the thatched orange rooftops of Henesys houses when Freud stopped the car. It left red in its wake, red like the blood spilt that day. Evan was passed out from shock, curled up like a bony little kitten in Phantom's arms. The blond kept one arm wrapped around the child, their position awkward due to his sling.

The sky gave way to evening, the burning sun finally disappearing past the painted horizon.

Phantom, as much as he preferred to focus on himself, rather than others, was caught up in helpless regret for Evan. He, himself, had never been close to his parents- they had left their butler, Gaston, to take care of him. Yet he knew how it was to lose Aria.

Little Evan would never be the same, would he? He'd be troubled by these same nightmares that plagued Phantom.

Phantom sighed, reaching past Evan to massage his temples.

Well, he supposed they had an extra mouth to feed, now.

"Stay with Evan," Freud murmured cautiously, "I'll go check out one of the houses. We can sleep there tonight."

Phantom gave a curt nod, and then Freud was walking away, trying the doors to the houses until he found one that was unlocked. Phantom anxiously watched him walk in with his knife at the ready, disappearing into the darkness inside.

A few minutes later, he reappeared, showing a quick thumbs up to the other man. Freud walked up to the passenger side of the car and opened the door, lifting Evan up into his own arms so that Phantom could rise.

The house was in relatively good condition, aside from being overgrown with vines, eating away at the structure of it. Phantom shut the door behind him and locked it while Freud settled the young boy into an upstairs bed, and next they both set to work locking the windows and closing the blinds.

Finally, shut into a safe cocoon, the two let out synchronized sighs of relief.

Phantom rolled his neck, feeling it _pop_ softly, and he was startled to blink and see, through the darkness, Freud watching him intently.

All of a sudden, Freud began to advance, looking damn near predatory. Phantom took a step back, and he walked closer and closer until Phantom was pressed against the wall, the experiment's body fitting against his.

"Freud-" Phantom started, only to feel Freud's face press against his neck, inhaling sharply.

Oh gods, had Freud gone insane? Had the side of him that was nothing more than a Rotter, taken over?

Phantom let out a startled breath when Freud did nothing more than drag his tongue across the blond's soft, warm neck.

"Uh," Phantom murmured, voice caught in his throat as Freud's tongue laved his neck. He tried to push the other man away, but the redhead's hands came up to firmly pin the other against the wall. Phantom felt a surge of arousal that he _really, really _didn't want to feel right then. His stomach gave a harsh, dizzying drop as Freud _bit_, hard. And Phantom found himself turning his head to the side, giving more access to Freud.

Freud pulled back, a strand of saliva dripping down his chin obscenely, and out flicked his knife. Phantom's eyes widened in fear.

"I- Freud- what the hell are you doing?!" He hissed, squirming desperately.

Freud shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you," He finally muttered roughly. And with that, he drew the blade over Phantom's neck, creating a shallow cut that dripped pearls of red.

Freud's lips came to meet the drops of blood, licking them away hungrily. The knife fell to the floor, forgotten, while the experiment sucked, licked and nibbled the cut.

"Nn..gh."

Maybe Phantom had been a masochist all along, because this felt utterly erotic. When Freud stopped, he was almost disappointed.

"What the _fuck_, Freud," He breathed, knees nearly buckling as he watched the auburn-haired man lick his lips.

"I was hungry," And Freud said that as if it explained _everything._

Well, technically it did, but... Phantom stared at Freud exasperatedly.

Freud turned to leave, simply glancing back over his shoulder. "You should probably get used to it."

"...After all, you were the one who asked me to stay."


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, _the incident,_ as Phantom had so chosen to refer to it as, went forgotten. At least, no one spoke of it. Yet Phantom had laid in bed remembering the feel of Freud's lips on his skin. Freud showed no sign of saying anything further about the incident, and so Phantom spoke nothing either. Instead, they sat together on the wood floorboards after peering out the closed blinds warily. No Rotters marred the image of the sunrise rising, over green grass with frozen dew drops gathered at the tips.

They talked in hushed voices, with Freud occasionally going upstairs to check on the little boy who still slept on, exhausted from the trauma of the previous day.

"What are we doing next?" Phantom murmured softly, unconsciously rubbing at the scabs on his neck. The house was slowly lighting up with the dawn shine, and it revealed a homely little place, with a kitchen off in the corner, and a fireplace in the living room, where they currently were. The blond sighed and curled his fingers against his temples. "What's even the point of all this traveling we're doing, Freud? What are we trying to find?"

Phantom's eyes fixed on a clock up on the wall, and the ticking which he had tuned out seeped back into his ears. "We have a child to look after, now..."

Freud's voice was solemn when he finally spoke. "A cure. No, not a cure... _The _cure."

"What are you even talking about?" Phantom sighed wearily. "There _is_ no cure."

"You don't know that. I could- the scientists. I could pick up their research! If I could just _remember_ where the lab was..."

"Don't you get it?!" Phantom stood furiously. He couldn't take this. He had given up all hope of this sick disease ever being cured. Humanity was _over _and _gone,_ and so was his hope. And Freud was fucking...! "They're dead. Gone. And so is any hope that they found anything. And you don't even know where the _lab is?_"

Freud almost seemed to flinch, but he just stared at Phantom. And just as suddenly as it had come on, the man's rage disappeared. He sighed and looked away, anywhere but at Freud, because he knew that that had been a low blow. "Sorry."

The quaint little kitchen was suddenly very interesting, with its light brown cabinets that had golden knobs, and pale yellow hotpads that hung from them. Whoever had lived here was very color coördinated.

Just then, little Evan stumbled down from upstairs, rubbing his eyes blearily with his clenched fists. He yawned and stared at Phantom and Freud.

"Where's Mom?" He asked, voice fuzzy with sleep. "I had a nightmare. I need Mom," He blinked up at the two of them, batting his blue eyes. "But don't tell Utah. He'll tease me."

Phantom felt his chest clench. He exchanged a glance with Freud.

"You're Mom and Dad's friends, right?"

The blond fumbled for words. But before he could speak, Freud spoke for him, voice resigned.

"It wasn't just a nightmare."

This time, real fear crept its way into Evan's voice. "You're lying."

"I'm sorry."

* * *

It was around noon when the three got back into the Lumiere. They had had a meager breakfast of the remains of a scavenged box of cereal from the cupboards of the house, although a very shocked Evan had barely eaten.

For the first time since that morning, Evan spoke.

"Mom and Dad and Utah can't be dead."

The little boy was looking up at Phantom, eyes wet as he gnawed his lip. His voice was far too quiet, far too reserved for an excitable kid. "We- Can we go back? Please? I need my stuffie."

"Stuffie?" Phantom raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah! It's a little dragon. His name is Mir and we're best buddies." A watery grin. Phantom hated kids, but maybe this time he could make an exception.

"We need to go back anyways," Freud stated absentmindedly. "To check if there are any other survivors. Maybe this 'Utah' is still alive."

Phantom dreaded what they would find at the house.

"You should stay behind and watch over Evan."

"What? No!" Phantom immediately protested.

"You have a gunshot wound, Phantom. Don't be stubborn. Besides, I'd rather not put him in danger."

Phantom bit his lip angrily. As much as he hated it- oh, he _so_ hated it, he had to admit that Freud was right. If not for his own sake, then for Evan's.

"Come back safely."

Freud nodded, coming around to the passenger side to open the door and lean in quickly, giving the startled, amethyst-eyed man a hug. "If I'm not back soon, take Evan and go."

Phantom swallowed hard, glancing in the rearview mirror to see Evan sitting in the back seat. Freud didn't wait for an answer before going in.

An awkward silence hung in the air after the front door shut behind Freud. At least, awkward for Phantom. He had no idea what to say to Evan.

So instead, he spent the passing time checking himself out in the mirror and fixing his hair.

* * *

The door shut behind Freud with an ominous thud. He looked around warily, flick knife at the ready and gripped tightly in his hand. He moved quickly but silently.

The kitchen was empty of any people... Or Rotters. There was broken glass littering the white and black checkered floor. Freud quickly moved on to the hallway, which was lined with several doors.

A thump. A shuffle. Freud frowned.

That hadn't been him.

Freud inched forward, placing his back against the door to the room the noise had come from. In one quick movement, he opened the door and swung his knife forward.

It plunged into an arm. The foul thing screeched at him, an inhuman noise, before grabbing his wrist roughly. He hissed in pain, unwillingly letting go of the knife, which, having not gone very deep, fell to the floor with a clatter.

Struggling, Freud was backed against the wall, staring into the ugly face of the Rotter hanging on to his arm. It was a woman, with several strands of brown hair left. Her... Its face was discolored and peeling.

The realisation that this used to be Evan's mother hit Freud like a brick, nearly causing him to stop struggling.

In that moment, it surged forwards, wrapping its skeletal hand around his throat and lifting him to the wall. His fingers scrabbled desperately to fight the hand away.

He couldn't breathe...!

Spots of darkness began to creep into Freud's vision, and his fighting grew weaker and weaker.

"Phantom!" He cried out hoarsely.

* * *

It had been far too long already. Where _was_ Freud?

Looking back at Evan one more time, Phantom sighed.

"...Look, Evan, I need to go find Freud, okay? Whatever you do, don't get out of the car unless you need to run."

Evan nodded, eyes wide, as Phantom reached back to comfortingly touch his small knee. The blond got out of the car and ran to the house.

In moments, despite the pain in his shoulder from exertion, he was inside the house.

"Freud?" He called out.

And that was when he heard it.

_"Phantom!"_

Phantom raced towards the room he had heard the breathless shout coming from. The door was open.

Freud was being choked.

Freud's flick knife was on the floor. In one quick movement, he grabbed it and stabbed it into the Rotter's neck, forcing it off of Freud.

The redhead gasped for breath, on his hands and knees on the floor. His face was red and his eyes were unfocused.

"I told you... To stay... In the car," Freud huffed out.

"Well, you can thank your lucky ass that I didn't."

Phantom helped Freud up. Together, the two checked the rest of the house. They found nothing. Evan's father and brother, now Rotters, must have made distance from the place. They began walking towards the door.

"Wait," Phantom hesitated. He quickly made his way up the stairs to Evan's old bedroom. He wrinkled his nose and ignored the dead body of the Rotter to instead rifle through Evan's drawers.

_Aha!_

A small blue stuffed plushie of a dragon. On the tag on its butt, in sloppy, child's handwriting, was written 'Mir'.

Phantom smiled triumphantly, heading back downstairs to show Freud his prize. Phantom and Freud looked at each other. "Thank you," Freud said softly.

"Any time."


	7. Chapter 7

"How often do you need to, well... Eat?" As usual, Phantom hardly cared about the tact of his own words, as long as they didn't cast him in an unrefined light.

It was the day after when they had ventured back to Evan's house, or rather, night. Evan was in the bed upstairs in the house they had returned to, hopefully asleep, while Phantom and Freud once again sat on the old, dusty couches and made discussion.

Freud grimaced, "Do we have to talk about this?"

"It's my blood that you're asking to take."

"Who said I was asking?"

Phantom's eyes narrowed. "Freud."

"Fine," The experiment answered the earlier question. "At least once a week."

"At_ least_...?"

"Or else I start to turn as mindless as _them,_"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Phantom abruptly held up his hands in a halting gesture. His lip curled in distaste as he narrowed his eyes. "I am _not_ letting you play tonsil hockey with my neck _at least once a week._"

"And if I say, 'yes, you're going to'?" Amusement flickered in Freud's blue eyes.

"Bite my ass."

It occurred to Phantom too late that that had been the wrong choice of words. In a moment that happened too quickly, Phantom was pinned face down on the couch with Freud straddling his thighs. He let out a muffled yelp into the couch cushion as the experiment's clever fingers hooked into the hem of his tightly hugging jeans and tugged down.

Phantom felt a flash of cold air against his ass, before he felt sharp teeth sink into his right cheek and a warm, wet tongue flick out. The blond let out a strangled moan. And just as suddenly, the sensation was gone, and the weight was lifted off the backs of Phantom's legs.

Phantom flipped over, his body hot with embarrassment and arousal, and was ready to chew Freud out when he saw the redhead raise a finger to his lips, a cocky smirk flitting about them, "You wouldn't want to wake Evan, would you?"

And for once in his life, the clever-tongued blond was tongue-tied.

Phantom let out a frustrated growl and stalked off. He had finally met his match in someone as _infuriating_ as he, himself, was.

Phantom inevitably came back. He always did. This time, Freud's voice took on a more serious tone.

"If I remember where the lab is, will you come with me?"

Phantom temporarily ignored the question in favor of his curiosity. "Why don't you remember?"

"The scientists, well... They worked for the government, and the government was corrupted. They were members of an organization called the Black Wings, and... They were doing things. Things that they shouldn't have. Things against the public," Freud grimaced, rubbing at his temples with the effort it took to recall just that.

"They erased parts of my memory in order to protect theirselves. But... They weren't bad people," Freud murmured sadly. "They just worked for the wrong place. And in the end, they were trying to create a cure."

Freud met Phantom's eyes, then. "I could use your help in finding the cure."

"...I'll come. It's better than just staying here," Phantom hated the idea of being stuck in a single place. Losing his freedom. The thought made him want to shudder.

"Thank you."


	8. Chapter 8

"...Phantom?"

The blond man squeezed his eyes shut tighter, hoping the noise would go away.

"Phantom," The voice persisted, accompanied by a sensation. Phantom sighed and blinked his bleary eyes open. Evan was standing there, patting his uninjured arm before flinching away with a scared look.

"Phantom, pancakes."

..._What._

"Pancakes...?" He answered slowly, with the air of someone who has no fucking clue what's going on.

"I want some..." The brunette answered shyly. Evan's hair was knotted and messy, and Phantom itched to take a brush to it and smooth it out.

"Yeah?" Phantom yawned, propping himself up with one arm. "There's no pancake mix in this house. Sorry, kid."

"Oh," Evan bit his lip sadly, just a hint of his buckteeth showing. "I drawed- drew- something for you and Mister Freud..." The child held up a messily scribbled picture of three stick-figures; a yellow-haired one, a red-haired one and a brown-haired one between them, all smiling. In awkward handwriting, it read 'thanks for saving me!'.

"Thank you," Phantom flashed a genuine grin. He had never had a child draw something for him before... Something inside him felt warm.

Evan, holding his stuffed dragon tightly, hesitantly nodded and scurried off.

* * *

"It's the weekend, isn't it?" Freud idly remarked as Phantom ate a bowl of cheerios. He would have much preferred cinnamon toasters, these things tasted like a Rotter's ass.

"Dunno," The blond shrugged, milk dribbling down the corner of his mouth before it was stopped in its tracks by clever fingers. "I haven't exactly been keeping track of time. Apocalypse, and all."

Sometimes it disturbed him, how easily he could speak of the apocalypse these days. And before he knew it, the man was lost in memories of halcyon days.

"I remember back when on Saturday nights, I would lay about and drink fine wine," Phantom murmured absentmindedly. "Steal things, too- diamonds and gold chains, family heirlooms and the lot. Do you know why I have such a strange name?"

"Because your parents were drunk when they named you?"

Phantom snickered, "Come on, it's an amazing name, not a horrible one. It's actually a pseudonym. I... Was at large before all this," He waved a hand in some vague, incomprehensible gesture, "Happened. I'd leave calling cards at people's houses marked _Phantom_, before I'd steal their things," He chuckled. "...Good times."

"I see," Freud looked amused. "Did you ever get caught?"

"Once or twice. I always busted out," Phantom grinned pridefully.

"What's your real name?"

Phantom raised a finger. "Ah, ah, ah. You're not qualified to know that."

"Do I need a Ph.D just to know your given name?"

"Yes. Three years of graduate study, studying the wonder that is me. Don't worry, the years will go by fast; I'm sure it won't bore you to learn about me," Phantom grinned cheekily.

"Will I be doing you as my homework, Phantom?"

Phantom's eyes widened. Was Freud... Hitting on him? He was attractive, but- well- they had just met!

"Shoving you in my closet, forgetting about you, and hoping my dog eats you?"

"Excuse me?!" Phantom huffed.

...Freud grinned and whistled innocently

"Your name sounds familiar," Freud mused. "Perhaps I heard of your crimes when I was still alive. I think... That what they did to me wears off when I'm reminded of things."

"Then maybe I can help you. I can ask you things and see if you remember anything."

"Ask me things? Such as?" Freud was practically perked up eagerly, the expression strange on the unusually calm man.

Phantom, nosy as he was- _Hey, I'm just trying to help him remember, _asked the first thing that came to mind. "Did you have a husband or a wife?"

"What? Why would I have that?" Freud laughed. "I'm pretty sure I was, and still am, a bachelor."

Phantom paused doubtfully, staring at Freud's hands for some reason.

"...What, Phantom? Do I have something on my hand?"

"Freud," Phantom remarked slowly, paying attention to details as he always did, "You have a ring on your left ring finger."

The auburn-haired man's eyes widened and he stared down, holding up his left hand as if it was a stranger.

"I..." Freud hesitated, something nagging at the corner of his mind.

"Do you remember proposing, or being proposed to? What's the first thing that comes to mind?"

"I don't know."

"What day was it?"

"April thirteenth," Freud answered without missing a beat, before his eyes widened. "I- How did I know that?"

"Looks like you did have a sweetheart," Phantom mused.

What to ask, what to ask? Phantom tapped his lithe fingers against his lower lip, ponderingly. The blond's bright amethyst eyes widened and he grinned as an idea struck him.

"I take you, Freud, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. "

The reaction was immediate. The redhead tensed, his hands beginning to shake, before he clutched at his head.

* * *

_Sunset. The glow over the horizon was lurid, like one of his lover's drawings of landscapes. Periwinkle, peach, pumpkin and carmine blended together, shining over small wooden Leafre huts and green, dewy grass. Mockingbirds sang out their songs as night caressed day to sleep. _

_Leafre was home. It was fields of gold and blue skies, watching rain fall and glisten on the grass, illuminated by the sun. It was scrapes on his knees from climbing trees, vivid bruises on his legs in bright blues and greens and yellows, and being told by his mother to not bother with the baby birds who fell from their nests, or their mothers wouldn't take them back. Home painted an abstract picture of childhood pains and pleasures. Maybe it was nothing special, but it was **his.** _

_It was nice, to simply lay there on his back on the soft ground, absently running his fingers through woven grass, laughing as his love placed a flower crown upon his head. It was beautiful, that he could share this home with another. Life was peaceful. No worries about far-off wars._

_A shadow moved in to block the light that flooded in from behind his closed eyelids and he smiled, playfully kicking at the man in front of him. "You're in my way. Could a poor damsel request that you allow her to catch some sun?"_

_"Not until you open your eyes."_

_Obediently, Freud opened his deep blue eyes. The sight that awaited him made him swallow, hard._

_His love was down on one knee. Could it be that...? Anticipation was a nervous rush that nearly unhinged him._

_"Freud. I want you to marry me," And he was presented with a silver ring, with a red ruby shining in the remainders of the sun._

_Slowly, a smile widened across Freud's lips. His hand came to rest over his rapidly beating heart, as elation made him dizzy. Perhaps this was the happiest day of his life._

_"Of course," He whispered._

* * *

_"I take you, Freud, to be my lawfully wedded husband. To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."_

_The exchanging of rings, the signing of names, and finally, the kiss. It was slow and sweet, not rushed at all. The world faded away into staccato noise, and it was just their lips, performing a ritual of giving that had been exchanged many times before, both passionate and sleepy, angry and warm, sad and slow and delighted and fast, aroused and desperate, precise and messy._

_Applause, and it was the delicate beginning rush of love, all over again. The butterflies in his stomach fluttered excitedly._

* * *

_Their bodies fit together perfectly in their lovemaking, as Freud was teased and brought to the very brink of pleasure and pain until he could bear it no more, was crying out for his love, love, love._

_Because he was truly **his**, now, his husband, and the happiness was almost unbearable because he felt it would burst out of him, that he would explode from the joy. It was a warm, loving pain in his chest and he wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry from so many emotions anymore. They made love under the midnight sky, in the place where they had become engaged, with only the bright stars to watch them._

_"I love you, Freud."_

_"I love you too," Freud laughed and raked his fingers through his sex-mussed hair. "I have a feeling it's 11:11. Let's make a wish."_

_"I wish," Freud's husband hummed, "For death not to do us part for a long time."_

_"How morbid. Don't worry, we're both going to live long lives." Freud nudged the man laying next to him playfully. _

_"You can never be too sure."_

* * *

Freud slowly pulled his hands away from his face, eyes wide and shocked.

"E-Eun..." He whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

Freud was quiet for the rest of the day. They went about their business, exploring houses for more survivors and items that could be of use to them. He responded to the thief only with curt replies and seemed distant, not at all like the warm man who was slowly becoming Phantom's friend. Phantom could easily guess why; Freud had remembered, and he hadn't liked it. That didn't mean _Phantom_ had to like this behavior of his.

The latest house they were checking out was near the park. Its doors creaked irritatingly when opened and shut, and the place was covered in dust. Still, it was in good condition, considering. The brown carpets were matted with sticky things that Phantom didn't want to know about. The walls were painted bright, cheerful colors, an arrangement that seemed melancholy now, when it had once been perhaps a loving home for a family.

Evan was 'helping', running around the house and bouncing up and down the stairs, watching dust roll off of them in waves. Although still depressed and traumatized, Evan could almost seem normal at times, romping about in his shorts and tee, never letting his dragon plush go. However, many times during the nights they spent in their temporarily chosen house, Phantom heard him crying out, clutched in the hold of vicious nightmares. The boy also seemed afraid to be touched, and any loud noises made him shake.

A sickened feeling settled in Phantom's gut when he came upon an empty nursery with glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling. The crib was a pale blue, the inside swathed with downy blankets. It was eerily empty, disturbingly quiet when once it had been filled with laughter, even the small tears of a fussing child.

_This could have been mine and Aria's, _Was all that could run through his head at that moment. Phantasmagoric images flashed before him, of a blond, blue-eyed girl giggling in Aria's arms. Aria had always loved the name Cygnus, the name of the constellation of the swan. A beautiful name.

The thief shook his head to clear it and walked away, gently shutting the door behind him. Putting a barrier between him and the might've beens.

Next came the master bedroom. The items around the room were in disarray, as if the owner had hastily packed. Various pieces of trash, just random things such as empty boxes, littered the carpet. Phantom quickly made his way over to the black desk that was adjacent to the door and started opening drawers.

Jackpot; a drawer filled with rolled up... Maps? Phantom unrolled one- useless, it was a map of Henesys. Another one. It was a map of the surrounding cities. Now _this_ could come in use.

"Freud," Phantom murmured, voice echoing throughout the empty halls. He held up the thin roll of parchment, "Freud, I found a map."

Footsteps. Wordlessly, the redhead came to take it from him, unrolling and inspecting it. Freud nodded and turned to leave, halted in his tracks by Phantom grabbing his sleeve.

"Can't you at least _say something?-" _Phantom began irritably. Who the hell did Freud think he was? _No one_ ignored Phantom and got away with it.

"Don't touch me," Freud interrupted coldly, shrugging off the hand.

"We don't have _time_ for you to sulk, Freud. What the hell's gotten into you?"

Freud was deathly silent for a few moments, simply looking over at Phantom icily. "My husband is dead, Phantom."

"My lover is dead too," Phantom narrowed his eyes. _How dare he be so selfish,_ "At least I'm not throwing a pity party for myself."

"He promised me..." Freud whispered weakly. "He promised me. 'Til death do us part. I never thought it would come so soon..."

Without another word, Freud stalked off, leaving Phantom to wonder if maybe he had been too harsh.

* * *

Evan was fast asleep, tucked in beside Mir. They had been forced to eat the cardboard cheerios for dinner- even worse, every time they ate them, it was without milk. The little boy had poked and prodded at his food distastefully, his expression mirroring Phantom's. The kid was quickly becoming like a little brother to the man.

Phantom eyed Freud warily as the man paced the living room, eyes almost vacant. It was startling when the auburn-haired man finally came to stand in front of him- he, himself, was laying on the couch, staring up at the dusty ceiling fan.

"Phantom?"

"What is it?"

Slowly, Freud came to straddle Phantom's hips, leaning in closer to his face. Phantom's eyes widened, startled as he was by the sudden weight on top of his. Cool, minty breath brushed across his lips and then his ear. The blond's heart pounded in his chest, his face flushing.

_What...?_

"Make me forget."

"I- Freud, what the hell!" Phantom hissed as Freud's lips brushed the shell of his ear.

"I don't want to remember anymore."

Phantom slapped Freud in the face, hard, wincing as the motion jostled his injured arm.

"You can't run away, Freud. _Wake up._"

Freud, clutching his cheek, sat up and bit his lip. All was still and silent for several moments.

"..I'm sorry," His eyes were downcast and heavy with melancholy, a hurt that no one could sooth.

"...Do you know for certain that he's...?" Phantom asked finally.

"No. But if I was turned, then he would've been as well. He wouldn't have ran, even if I begged him to."

Somehow, Phantom found himself reaching forward, arm wrapping around the shaking man. It was strange to see Freud so unhinged- but he knew that grief could do strange things to a man.

"I know how it is," Phantom said simply. He wouldn't say he was sorry. Sometimes a simple 'sorry' could hurt like a punch to the gut, the pity unbearable. However, knowing that someone else was going through the same thing could mean a lot to someone.

"I loved him so much," Freud laughed bitterly. "And even then, all I remember is a shadow of those feelings. You know, I remember... Back in Leafre, I would show him different types of flowers, and he would make them into crowns for me..."

"Aria... She and I would feed the birds. I remember one time, I hired a professional to paint her. I think his name was... Eun Wol, or something like that."

For a moment, Freud's eyes flashed, before he seemed to shrug whatever it was off. "Aria? Was she yours?"

Phantom nodded with a woeful smile.

"We met when I left a calling card at her manor. I intended to steal a family heirloom of hers that had been passed down for years- a blue diamond known as the Skaia. I thought she was just another haughty, rich, tittering woman. She proved me wrong when she came out to meet me that night. And you know what she said?" Phantom laughed softly, caught up in reminiscing. "She said, "Over my dead body," chin up in the air and her shoulders squared. She looked so damn defiant. My beautiful, proud Aria."

Freud smiled faintly. "I... Still don't remember how I met him. Perhaps I will with time."

The hours passed with the two of them exchanging stories, laughing away their pain. Phantom had never told any of this to anyone else, and it was oddly refreshing to do so. It took a weight off of his chest.

"-And so Aria said, "Well, I prefer a man to keep his corny pick-up lines to himself," Phantom snickered. "Cheeky little lady, she was."

"She sounds like a work of art," Freud smiled gently.

"She was," Phantom yawned, gently rubbing at his eyes. "We should go to sleep."

"Wait. Let's look at the map, first. We need to figure out where we're going next."

Phantom nodded in agreement, pointing to the map that rested on the table. They unrolled it, Freud leaning over to study it. He pointed to the name _Henesys_, marked in bold letters on the map. "Here's us. We came from there," His finger trailed to Kerning City. "The surrounding cities are Perion, Lith Harbor and Ellinia." In the center of it all was Sleepy Woods, a thick, scraggly forest.

"Wait, what's this?" Phantom rested his thumb next to the word _Edelstein_. "I've never seen it on a map before."

Freud's eyes widened, before he broke out into a grin.

"That's _it!" _He stood and began to pace, leaving Phantom bewildered.

"_That's_ where the lab was! Edelstein! It was in the mines. Gods, what were they called? Nevermind, we'll ask the locals when we get there."

A warm sort of feeling washed over the two of them. They were finding their way. Phantom found himself sighing in relief- Freud was back to normal, even if his heart bore more scars now.

"Let's get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us, tomorrow," Freud flashed a crescent moon of white teeth at Phantom.

"Goodnight, Freud."

"Goodnight, Phantom."


	10. Chapter 10

They were on the couch again. Only this time, Freud said nothing, only pressing into him harder, breath faintly ghosting over his mouth as he leaned closer and closer.

Something nagged at the corner of Phantom's mind, making him want to push the redhead away, and yet... It felt nice. Natural, even. Freud's mouth was gentle against his when the touch finally came, but it jolted Phantom nonetheless, leaving sparks trailing down his spine. With a soft little shudder, he pushed himself closer, moving his previously petrified lips against Freud's.

Freud let out an even breath, compared to Phantom's own shaky ones, and they kissed. Soft, delicate and precise, until the blue-eyed man showed a hint of teeth that dug into the blond's bottom lip, and the kiss turned rougher. Phantom lapped upwards, taking Freud's lip into his mouth to suck on before releasing it with an obscene pop.

A disappointed gasp fell from Phantom's lips when Freud pulled back, only to speak in a desperate voice.

"May I-?"

A nod and then their mouths were crushed together, Freud's tongue exploring Phantom's mouth eagerly while the blond licked back. His hands came to tangle in Freud's soft, messy, auburn hair, tugging at it roughly. Freud hissed and pressed Phantom further down, his hand hard on his shoulder.

Their lips parted, a slender string of saliva connecting them before breaking.

"Fuck me, Freud," The words were deliciously obscene, coming from his mouth.

Freud knelt between Phantom's legs, so that each of them had a cock in their face, and obliged.

* * *

"Phantom. _Phantom, _wake up," An exasperated voice. Wasn't that the one that had just been crying out in pleasure...?

Phantom blinked up at a man sleepily, watching as his face came into focus. It was Freud. Wait... _Freud..._

With a yelp, Phantom sat up, hand coming to cover the tent in his pants. It ached, damn it.

"Nice dream?" Freud asked dryly.

...Phantom's face burned with humiliation and bemusement. Gods, had he really dreamt about...?

"Well, I'd suggest you start thinking about whatever turns you off, because Evan's coming down in a few, and then we're leaving soon after."

...Phantom did his best to think about anything but dream-Freud's flushed face as his lips parted in a moan. Gods, stupid _brain._ Thankfully, Freud didn't pry. But why the hell had he even had that dream?!

Some combination of a lack of getting any lately, and being around Freud a lot recently, Phantom finally decided.

A few minutes later, the hard-on was successfully conquered, despite the lack of a cold shower. Evan came down the stairs, sleepily lifting his arms over his head to stretch. His hair was in utter disarray.

Together, the two ate their cardboard Cheerios, Freud pacing meanwhile, and then they were walking to the Lumiere.

"So," Freud began, fingers tracing idly over the contours of the map, before gripping the steering wheel, "To get to Edelstein, we need to go back to Lith Harbor. We passed through while coming from Kerning City, so it's just northwest of Henesys."

"Once we're there, we're going to find a ship, correct?"

A nod from the experiment. The car started, and then they were off.

Phantom smirked and saluted Freud, "Team... Whatever our team name is. Next stop: Edelstein."

* * *

Lith Harbor was beautiful; Phantom could hear waves crashing and seagulls calling through the open window of the car, their black-tipped wings cutting through the clouds. It was a city cloaked in white, from its buildings to the foam in the ocean. The wind was scented of salt and sand and fresh air. Phantom absent mindedly hoped that no birds would decide to soil his lovely car. They passed over a white bridge, and Phantom admired the shimmering blue water, bokeh dots of white glinting off of it in the sun.

Evan had his face smushed against the window, watching the scenery go by. Clearly, the boy had never traveled outside of Henesys before, and he was awestruck just by the harbor.

"Pretty..." Evan whispered.

Phantom turned in his seat, holding back a smile, and ruffled the brunette's hair, mussing the strands further, before making a face and licking his thumb, smoothing down a strand that had decided to stick up. "Ew!" Evan protested, shoving the hand away, and the blond thief whistled innocently.

Evan was growing on him, slowly but surely. He couldn't help but feel affection for the one who had lost those precious to him, just like he, himself, had.

Freud stopped the car near the dock, the hum of the engine slowing and then stopping.

"We're here," Freud shrugged, smiling lightly.

Phantom found himself spacing out, thinking about the dream he had again. Without realizing, he stared at Freud for a while, before blinking and awkwardly coughing, stepping out of the car.

Phantom's pale gold hair was ruffled by the wind and he wrapped his arm around himself against the chilling breeze. He, Freud and Evan began walking down towards the ships.

One of them seemed incomplete- the other was in perfect condition. If there had been any others, they must have been taken.

On the side of the intact one was written '_Red 413'_, apparently the name of the ship.

"Looks like the choice is obvious," Phantom remarked, jerking a thumb towards the _Red. _Freud nodded in agreement.

"So," Phantom grinned sheepishly, "I don't suppose you know how to... Captain a ship?"

...

"No."

They glanced at each other.

"We're doomed," Phantom dramatically threw his hands up to the wind.

"Not if we find a boat instead. Surely the master thief won't mind getting his hands dirty with a little bit of paddling?" Freud smirked.

Phantom crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, "What if I get splinters or blisters?"

"You'll live."

"Mommy taught me how to take care of splinters," Evan announced innocently. "So don't worry!"

Phantom twitched a little. Gods, he was not supposed to be weak to how _cute_ that was. Freud smiled knowingly.

Freud beckoned for Evan to come closer, and then lifted him up, eliciting a startled noise from the boy. They walked the rest of the way to the dock and peered down, finally noticing an inconspicuous paddle-boat. Freud set Evan down in it, and then he and Phantom climbed in as well, the boat rocking.

Phantom blew a wistful kiss goodbye to the Lumiere, and then they were off.

* * *

It was nightfall by the time they settled upon the shores of Edelstein, tired out as they were. Evan was asleep.

"Let's just try and get to a safe place," Phantom murmured, glancing around warily. It would be difficult to see if there were any Rotters around, in the dark.

But as his eyes adjusted to the dark, a horrible smell washed over him, and he began to hear grunting.

Phantom's heart pounded in his chest. The Rotters hadn't noticed them yet, but...

"We're surrounded," He whispered.


End file.
